Physical Therapy

I arrived a few minutes early at Physical Therapy Friday afternoon. Rusty was on the back seat as I had decided to bring him with me to take him for a walk in town after all chores were completed. So I let him out of the car to take a quick look around the parking lot before I went in to my session.

A rather frail elderly woman getting out of the next car started when she saw Rusty across the lot and she mumbled something about not liking dogs which was a problem easily dealt with as we were walking in the opposite direction. 

 Ten minutes later I popped Rusty back into the car and made my way into Teresa's PT  gym. I was not the only patient. The frail elderly woman with the huge shock of wispy silver hair was on the physical therapy exercise bed stretching her legs. "Did you just leave your dog in the car?" she asked me. "Yes I did," I said. She protested, "You can't leave him in the car..." and Teresa iped up "Is the air conditioning on?" Of course it was, as I am not yet ready to suffocate young Rusty on an 85 degree afternoon. He's fine I insisted, to no avail as both women ganged up on me and told me to bring the little brown bundle of joy into the session.

Not to put too fine  a point on it I figured the frail elderly lady was high on something after all the ear ache I got in the parking lot but what the hell. In came the dog and was greeted by cooing noises from the formerly dog-fearful patient and suddenly he was smothered by Teresa who is quite fond not only of her cat it turns out but dogs as well. Rusty took the attention as his due and settled down into a small brown ball next to me as I started cycling on the spot.

The frail elderly patient it turned out has a long history of dogs in her life and we chatted at some great length about walking dogs, dealing with sick dogs, rescuing dogs and so on and so forth and the minutes ticked by while we exercised and tested our limbs and sense of balance and all that good  stuff.

I looked out the front window of the therapy room and to my astonishment a frail elderly woman with a massive head of wispy gray hair was getting into the green car parked next to mine. At last the penny dropped.

It took a couple of minutes to explain the confusion but after a bit I cleared up the mystery of the woman's sudden change of heart about dogs and we all had a hearty laugh about it. 

 What was perhaps even more interesting was the woman's mention of a recent walking feat as she told us she had covered three miles on her own two legs. That's a decent enough walk for anyone but it turns out she had spent the past three decades not able to walk very well at all as she had to have her legs in ungainly heavy braces. Teresa had changed all that.

 It took four attempts she said but on the fifth request for special leg braces she found a manufacturer who delivered exactly what she specified. It was quite interesting to see how grateful the patient was, noting Teresa's persistence had paid off after years of struggle. It seems my physical therapist had identified and understood her patient's need but she couldn't get leg brace manufacturers to build special braces made out out of very strong but very light carbon fiber. 

Finally her persistence paid off and now her patient could walk freely with two small pieces of material behind her calves looking like extended shoe horns. They were unobtrusive and looked a bit like this, custom built for her particular needs:

I was impressed by Teresa's skill at identifying the need and persistence in getting it done, but she is a physical therapist and that's what they do. The dog lover is mobile again and able to walk her dog easily.

It was a pretty good day at physical therapy, then. And Rusty got his walk (above) at the park later.

Mangrove Dawn

I was not expecting much under a clear blue sky because usually it takes  some clouds to produce  some drama. And yet it  was a perfect morning standing on the road waiting for the sun to come up. Rusty was off running and chasing his tail. We were both happy. 

It was cold too a few degrees below 70 with a light breeze, such that when I left the apartment complex in the dark I had turned the car heater on to  clear the chill and discovered to my surprise it worked perfectly and offered not the least hint of cat fur singeing which is what usually happens when you don't use a heater for a long while. It's normal in the Keys where heat is rarely needed for dust to settle on heater coils so when you turn them on they burn the dust and make a gruesome smell. 

I wasn't alone in my travels when I looked up and heard the swishing sound of pelicans traveling overhead. 

Finally the sun put in an appearance and started to do me the courtesy of warming me up. 

The morning glow was reflected on some of the mangrove leaves along the roadway. I was feeling at peace and happy to be there. I have discovered since I left rehab that my life changing experience has not changed the people around me and with that realization came the understanding that I can't make changes beyond my very narrow sphere of influence. 

I had a conversation to that effect with a detective at work. Detectives are odd people in that they move through the world looking like civilians but they deal close up with the worst of human behavior. And unlike uniformed officers they also deal with the impact of that behavior, talking to family members, consoling and pulling their investigation through the most intimate details of people's lives. Consequently when I talked to a detective I met on my way to my office she actually understood me when I said I had seen some positive aspects to my recent hospitalization.

The mental clarity I gained came at a high price but unlike other people who write me off as crazy when I say the experience wasn't all bad the detective understood my point. I know now I where I want to live and how I want to live as hard as that may be to achieve every day. I know my time is limited and I am reminded every day of what I want to discard from my life and what I want to retain. Even in my own negative experiences when I am feeling annoyed I can see past the momentary in ways I couldn't before the accident. I can measure the extent and nature of my irritation before I allow myself to be overwhelmed. I wonder how I will cope when I have another big test to face, a problem of greater magnitude than a mere irritation but I hope I shall have the inner strength to cope.Right now if you tell me I have a messed up work schedule or my glasses are broken I shrug and move on. Not worth getting upset about. I used to let things like that bother me. 

The difficulty comes in relations with others. Other people haven't had their clocks re-set for them like I have. I fear I come across as insincere sometimes because I now have a tendency to make light of everything and I have to guard against that. What seems inconsequential to me is a matter of grave disturbance to my neighbor. I watched a young motorcyclist forced to swerve to avoid a car that moved into his lane, obviously not noticing the motorcycle. It was a mistake not a deliberate act of cruelty and perhaps the  driver should have seen him but the rider twisted in his saddle shaking his fist at the car driver for several city blocks until the car turned off. Then the motorcyclist finally turned back to his own direction of travel and promptly deliberately ran a red light. I laughed glad at least he didn't get knocked down. I don't think he would have thanked me had I reached him later and pointed out the irony of his dangerous behavior.

I know a man I'd like to befriend. I think he has lived an interesting life and now he has settled in Key West I see him around town from time to time. His girlfriend is garrulous and assertive and difficult to take in large doses, but like so many successful relationships the combination of personalities seems to work well. I think I grate on her nerves and so I cannot make a new friend as it seems I have to go through her to him. Too bad. I of course have made a promise to myself not to be around people who grate on my nerves! And her boyfriend is  part of a package deal. My wife has no interest at all in dealing with her. So I slowly learn to tread lightly and think before I speak and not to take stuff personally. Every day is a test.

Those thoughts went through my mind while I was reveling in the solitude of my slow walk, pushing the walker up the road, my big camera around my neck and not a human in sight. I felt rather as though I should not permit myself such pleasure in my solitude, as though enjoying so much being alone was a betrayal of my attempts to be more social and more open as I reinsert myself into the world. 

I found myself surrounded by Nature and it felt good. I had to answer to no one and please no one, not even my dog who was off enjoying his own space. In the distance I could hear the flat roar from over the water of  un-silenced commercial fishing boats, but closer to me there was nothing. 

I snatched pictures out of the sky, discarding the worst and hoping the remainder would express my solitary idle pleasure. You can't make people bend to your view of the world and telling strangers to make the most of every minute is a terrible insult when you don't know what path they are walking in the first place.

As I write this my friend Webb, the inveterate circumnavigator is poised to take off on a sailing journey to try to complete his sixth, and possibly last trip around the globe.  He describes going sailing as entering the monastery of the sea, a place where he has no communication with people sometimes for weeks at a time. It's where he is most comfortable and he makes no bones about it. He enjoys land, he has been married several times and is married now, but he lives to sail and to explore the boundaries of human experience. Part of my own rehab is finding, at this late stage in my life the boundaries between my solitary restored self and the part of me that I want to push like a reluctant barge into the flow of human companionship and conversation. 

These seem heavy thoughts when written down but in giving up hope of making a new friend I felt like I had taken another step along the path, finding my way one rejection at a time. That's right I tell myself, removing clutter from your life is a fad right now on Netflix but I'm pretty good at getting rid of stuff. The intangibles are harder to sort out, measuring an appropriate amount of solitude, whether or not to agree to a social event is much more complicated for me.Perhaps the first thing I should do is stop navel gazing and just get on with it, whatever it is.

It was a good day out in the boonies. One short whistle and my little brown bundle of joy burst out of the puddle and came trotting right alongside me. I have learned to trust my own judgement at least a little when it comes to figuring out people but the easy way is to see what Rusty thinks of people we come across. He is never wrong and if he avoids you, I will too.

That's what I should do, use Rusty as  people barometer, clumsy but accurate! 

Mangrove Walks

With my inability to sustain a decently long dog walk these days as my legs recover from the August accident I have developed a practice of incorporating more than one walk into a morning activity.

What I do is pick one spot where I can walk at some length relatively easily with my rolling walker...

...and then I'll try and think of a place where I can hang back and let Rusty run around at will...

...without me needing to do much more than sit and point my camera. Which is another sore subject.

.

Birds it turns out are put off by the sight and sounds of my contraption rolling noisily across the gravel path...The birds seem averse and take off, consequently I have to wait, look from afar.

It is a source of great joy for me to find myself back in these deserted landscapes.

I know the views don't vary much like they do in mountainous country, but the solitude is refreshing.

You wouldn't know Duval Street is less than thirty miles from here.

And that's how I like it, sitting in my walker in the sun with a cold breeze blowing out of the North.

Old abandoned trash rotting faster than you would give it credit for in this salt air and water world.

My dog keeping me company.

And later passing out next to me on the bed as we both rest from our exertions.

That's how you know it was a great walk. Pity the poor restless dog never worn out in the woods.

Vespa Sunset, Torch Keys

Cheyenne was snoring on her bed, I was tired of reading and as I was working a late overtime shift I had an hour to myself before my wife came home from her late shift at work. Better keep putting miles on the Vespa I told myself.

I have just passed the official break-in period of 600 miles (1000 kilometers) and with a gearbox oil change under my belt I have been seeking the elusive top speed in short bursts. So far it's about 60 mph (95km/h), though with a headwind a modest 53 seems the top. The engine feels strong all the way and vibrations present below 35 fade away around 45mph so 50mph (80km/) is a comfortable cruising speed.

I think that over the next few thousand miles the engine will loosen up but if next year 55mph (90km/h) as a steady cruising speed seems busy I may consider a more liberal exhaust to increase upper range torque. I am told a SIP Road 2 is a direct replacement which leaves room for the spare wheel in its side carrier. I am bearing it in mind. My goal is to travel easily with traffic on the highway in a 55mph zone, where speeds up to 60 or more are commonplace. The P200 will get there over time.

I kept up with traffic on the highway the six miles from my house to the turn off north on a Middle Torch Key. I rode the winding north go the causeway between Middle and Big Torch where I stopped on Dorn Road. The sun was setting - fast!

I hardly had time to ride down 50 yards of gravel before the orange orb was almost buried in the mangroves and salt water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riding back I tried to catch a reflection in the mirror but with the engine running the picture became a testament to the vibrations of the small two stroke single.

Never mind the Vespa; the views were tremendous.

Dorn Road, like all side trips in these islands is a dead end. However this road unlike most is quite long, eight miles from the Overseas Highway to the turn around.

And of course by the time I got back it was dark and a small yellow Labrador had woken up and was very ready.

Back out again, this time with the car for a walk at the Ramrod Pool. So then we were both happy.

 

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